


Three Golds

by Golden_Ticket



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Future Fic, Kid Fic, Never mind me, family fic, pure unabashed fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2019-04-07 23:09:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14091735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Golden_Ticket/pseuds/Golden_Ticket
Summary: Tessa. And. Scott. And their family.**Chapter One: Scott at a Charity Hockey Game ten years from now.Chapter Two: Tessa finds out she is pregnant for the first time.Chapter Three: If you think babies can't cry for one hour straight, you're wrong.Chapter Four: Their thirteen year old has an impotant hockey game.Chapter Five: In which the Moir girl goes to the Olympics.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This one is for the business partners, the happy chat, the fuel to my creativity these days. Especially for the lovely tessaandscotty, who prompted this :)
> 
> ALSO massive thanks to justtotallyplatonic and dencan for proof-reading, they are wonderful life-savers!!

 

If you had asked Tessa ten years ago if she wanted children, she would have paused for a long time and said, “That’s a really good question” and would’ve thought: ‘Maybe one day.’ Now they have three and she isn’t really sure how that happened.

 

The first had been an accident, as far as those accidents go. They had been somewhat careful starting out and even for a while after they got married but about a year in, she hadn’t exactly taken the birth control thing that seriously anymore. In September 2021, Tessa gave birth to a plump, healthy little boy and they named him David Joseph. All things considered, he was an easy baby, a blessing to have as a first, her mother told her. He slept a lot and when he didn’t, he was cheerful and seldomly sick. He only really cried when he wanted to eat or have his nappy changed. Their second was a little tougher. Matilda Audrey, born in October 2022, was prone to colic until she was about three and she had given them quite a lot of scares in those early years. Her fevers would go really high really fast and Scott had to spend many a morning at the Emergency room, waiting anxiously for news on their daughter’s health. She eventually grew out of the spells but when her little brother Matthias George was born in 2025, Tessa had been nervous about going through those scares again. But with Matty, there was no reason to worry. Out of all three kids, he was the sturdiest and the one they put on skates the earliest, when he was barely two years old.

 

He’d also been the youngest to ever score a goal in the history of the local kids hockey team at three years old. They’d plucked him from the bench more as a joke (he really was more of an honorary member, about two years younger than the youngest kid on the ice for games) and there’d been many ‘oooh’s’ and ‘aahhh’s’ as he took the ice on his tiny legs and so heavily padded he looked like a marshmallow on skates. But he had stared at that puck with a stern focus that made him look like a spitting image of his Dad and he had taken a breath and scored that point past the goalie who was twice his size and the crowd lost their collective minds. Scott Moir, on his first row seat, yelled the loudest, squeezing Tilly in his arms tightly enough to make her complain. Tessa had laughed and taken the girl from her husband’s arms so he could wave his fist around in abandon.

“So we really got ourselves a hockey champion, huh?” She asked him.

“For damn sure!” He yelled and then wooed as their son turned his little head on the ice, head covered in an oversized helmet and Tessa could barely make out his features. But the smile he wore, she could see even from a distance. It was Scott’s to a T.

 

Today, it’s her husband’s big day in hockey though. And they’re running late, because _of course_ they are. For all the wonderful qualities Scott had passed on to their children, the tardiness of his formative years he’d given to all three of them, hence why the Virtue-Moir family is perpetually late to everything.

“Come on, guys!” Tessa calls from the mini-van, tucking a stray strand of hair back into her top-knot. Matt is already strapped into his car seat (he’s the littlest so he can’t get away from her as fast as the others can when she collects them) but Tilly is still in the hallway struggling to get into her velcro-shoes, insisting to the cowering Scott that she can do it alone. Tessa cranes her head, trying to see inside and finally, David is flopping down the stairs.

 

It gives her a little pang to the chest every once in a while, seeing how tall he is getting. After his latest growth-spurt, his cheeks had lost a good amount of their chub and he looks like a proper boy now. At six and a half years, he looks exactly like his Dad did at that age, except for the nose, which is decidedly Tessa’s. But he’s not a little kid anymore and sometimes that’s scary, how fast the time passes. Tilly, with her five years, also keeps growing like a weed, although it’s already evident that she will never grow much taller than her mother. All their kids have inherited their relative smallness and thin bodies. Tilly is all grace and poise if she wants to be, even if she can be quite tom-boyish trying to keep up with her big brother and cousins. Out of the three children, she is the one who stuck with figure skating, although so far, she has shown no aspirations to skate with a partner. But Tessa thinks that’s normal for her age. David’s latest passion is swimming but he falls in love with a new sport or activity every other week. It’s hard to keep him focused with his abundant energy searching new outlets at any chance.

 

“Scott,” Tessa calls out again, finally closing the door of the van because Matty is squirming in his seat, complaining about the cold and she can’t blame him. It’s chilly for the late-March day. “We’re already super late.”

“Coming,” Scott says and then he grabs Til from the little bench by the door and makes way for Davy who slithers past them and finally, finally, she has everyone in the car, strapped in and ready to go.

 

“You got everything?” Tessa checks with Scott as he pulls out of the driveway and he nods.

“Oh, crabcakes,” he says once they turn the third corner.

“What?” She asks over their children giggling at their father’s swear-word approximate.

“We forgot the bananas,” he says and she can tell he is really deliberating going back for them

“No, we didn’t,” says Tess and nods to the bag between her feet.

“What would I do without you?” Scott asks and somehow he still manages to look at her like he did all those years ago, like she hung the stars. And somehow, it still gives her the same butterflies.

“Gross,” says David from the back and Scott laughs.

“Hey, kiddo, watch your pie-hole,” he warns playfully, “there’s a stop sign coming, plenty of time to give your Mom a little kiss.”

“Noooooo,” their two older kids scream in unison, their peevishness about their parents kissing a well of amusement for said parents. But Scott spares them this time. He still allows himself to reach over to Tess and stroke his palm up and down her thigh and when David sticks out his tongue at them from behind, Scott is willing to let it go this time and not retaliate.

 

When the local rink had asked for his participation in the charity hockey game Scott hadn’t been hesitant to reply yes, even though his age and years of skating had begun taking its toll on his knees and he was well aware that he still looked like a swan with a stick. After the many years of ice dancing and then going on to coach ice dance, he’s pretty sure he’ll never lose the fluidity of movement but he’s gotten better at hockey too in his post competitive career, mostly so that he can keep up with his boys.

The drive over to the rink is a relatively short one and the reception warm and familiar. There’s not too much excitement about their lingering notoriety anymore. They’re still known but the glory days of international fame are pretty much behind them at this point and while Scott knows that Tessa still likes the limelight on her many business avenues, he is very okay being just another working Dad out there who happened to have been a famous athlete once. There aren’t too many phones raised recording his every move this time, anyway.

 

He likes it better this way. Shielding their children from as much attention as possible had been a task, especially in the early years when David was little and Tessa was pregnant for the second time but once again, he is very glad to be Canadian because people are nothing but cordial and polite about asking them for pictures after the game is over. (He has failed to get in a goal but they won anyway and Matt is cute as a button when Scott picks him up after, still in his skating gear, and he says: “Next time, Daddy.”)

 

When the coast clears a little after taking pictures with fans, Tessa takes her turn, posing for a few while Scott takes the kids to the washroom and she can’t help but coo when they return in their matching Virtue-Moir jerseys, a cute gift they’d received a while ago from the hockey team, and her children look like ducklings walking after their father back to her.

“Would you mind taking a picture of us?” Tessa asks the last person who she had just posed with and the girl eagerly replies yes, taking Tessa’s phone with slightly shaky hands. Tessa gathers her family to the side of the board, scoops Matt up in her arms while Tilly half climbs up her father’s leg until he is holding her and David leans back against his mother, his hands in his pocket because he is already starting to be “too cool” to pose for family pictures.

“Cheese,” says the girl taking the picture and Tessa is all smiles.

 

On her phone a moment later, she looks through the five or six pictures taken and once again can’t decide who their children’s smiles are more alike, her or Scott. She can’t quite make up her mind this time either, only sees that her boys still look mostly like their father and Tilly looks a lot like her, even if she has inherited her Dad’s dark hair like David has and only Matt has gotten her natural sandy blonde. It doesn’t matter much, their kids could be picked out of any line-up as theirs and Tessa loves it. They look so happy in the picture and she thinks she’ll frame it as soon as they get home. This is all that matters now, like it always has. Scott and her and their family.

“Let me see,” Tilly says and tucks at Tessa’s sleeve, always the little model, and when she seems happy with the result, Tessa pockets her phone again and looks around to find her two boys chasing each other up and down the bleachers.

“Careful guys,” Scott calls out from beside her with little worry and puts his arm around her.

 

“You looked good out there,” she tells him and he smiles.

“I’m getting old,” he says and really, for forty, he doesn’t look like he has aged terribly. It probably helps that he still can’t grow a beard to save his life.

“Not to me,” she says and that warrants a kiss on her head at which point Tilly clocks out too and joins her brothers in their game of catch.

“Can you believe that we’ve got three of them?” Tessa asks, following his gaze to their children. He shrugs.

“We always did well in threes,” he says and she chuckles.

“Yeah, but they are all _Gold’s_ ,” she muses.

“That they are,” Scott agrees and pulls her in closer. “That they are.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> About how Tessa finds out she is pregnant for the first time.

Tessa had always been diligent, in every aspect of her life. That started with skating, to school, to her degree and her personal health. This meant she knew the workings of her body and since swapping the pill for the birth control shot, it meant that she kept a rigid schedule of when to get it renewed every twelve to thirteen weeks. It’s just that in the winter of 2020/21, things are above the average level of chaotic for them. Scott is doing the competition season with Abby and Max, switching from Juniors to Seniors for the first time, and because she has a fashion collab in Japan, she spends much of the winter going back and forth between Tokyo and wherever Scott is. So it’s possible that she mixes up the weeks in her calendar and makes her appointment a tiny bit too late. Truthfully, she doesn’t pay too close attention to birth control that winter honestly, because being apart for a while, her and Scott aren’t intimate often enough for it to really be on the forefront of her mind.

 

Still, mid-March, Tessa notices things about her body that are not normal. First of all, her boobs hurt and she’s over-sensitive to smells, even more than she normally is and that’s really saying a lot, and, naturally, the mild nausea that hits her every other evening which at first she chalks up to exhaustion. She has taken on renovating the garden of their new house in Montreal and is more involved with it than Scott because he is coaching daily and she took two weeks off after the launch of her line to regroup. But when the garden is good as done and she’s taken bubble baths, a generous spa day and cut out dairy for a week and _still_ feels her stomach turn like clockwork at around five in the afternoon, she gets sceptical.

Going to the doctor’s she doesn’t even consider pregnancy. She is afraid that it’s something bad, that she has an ulcer or something even worse and so when her doctor asks if she has missed her period recently she says easily, no doubt in her mind at all: “Since I’m on the shot I haven’t had one.”

 

Her doctor nods and turns some pages in Tessa’s patient folder, then looks at her with her brow furrowed.

“You got your last shot here in November,” she states and Tessa nods.

“Yeah and then the next one in January at Four Continents,” she says but more to herself because the doctor probably won’t know what that means.

“When was that exactly?” The doctor asks, eyes still on the sheet.

“Last week of January, I don’t remember the exact date but I can check,” Tessa says and the cogs in her head start turning. If ever so slowly.

“Were you sexually active immediately before you got it?” For this, the doctor looks up at her, grabbing a notepad and pen and Tessa nods, remembering in a flash how she met her husband at the hotel and he barely said hello to her before stripping her out of three layers of winter wear and taking her sweet time welcoming her back to his side.

“I think we should do a blood test,” her doctor tells her.

So they do.

 

On the drive home, Tessa’s head runs up a storm. If what her doctor suspected is true and she did get her shot too late and it did happen that night at the Four Continents, it would put her at roughly eight weeks but the maths aren’t really the point. The point is that she might be _pregnant_. And that hadn’t really been a thing in her mind yet. Sure, it had also not _not_ been a thing, elsewise she would have been way more anal about contraception but still, they hadn’t been trying or anything. And then the next matter is telling Scott. Should she tell him now, about the possibility, or wait until she knows for sure? Is she even ready to have a baby? Is he ready? Are _they_ ready?

 

She has not come to a satisfying conclusion by the time she’s home and doesn’t get anywhere for the next couple of hours restlessly pacing about the house. The question of telling Scott is answered the second he walks in the door, puts his keys in the bowl on the sideboard and groans about what a day he’s had. She’s not gonna tell him until she knows.

He is head over heels in routines and getting his skaters ready for Worlds, the competition steadily approaching, so she doesn’t want to distract him by potentially very big news that might still turn out to be a fluke and if she’s not pregnant, there might still be something seriously wrong with her and he doesn’t need to go to Worlds worrying about her.

 

“Have you decided if you wanna come, by the way?” He asks her over dinner and she remembers that that’d been an open question. She’d been deliberating coming with him but now that’s already at the end of the week and that’s when she was told to expect her results and really, if they turn out to be positive, she probably shouldn’t be flying and...in the scope of things it’s altogether not the best time.

 

“Um, I think I’m gonna sit this one out,” she tells him, forking around in her broccoli. “Is that okay?”

“Sure,” he says. “I’m gonna be useless anyway. Gonna be babysitting Abby and Max to make sure they don’t kill each other.”

“Oh, trouble in paradise?” Tessa asks, deciding that she is done with dinner, something about the broccoli doesn’t sit right with her.

“They’re off again this month,” Scott rolls his eyes. “I wish I could shake them sometimes. Hard. Like, _get it together, guys_.”

“You really shouldn’t date your partner,” she says and he chuckles. “Well, not until you’re at least twenty-six.”

“Of course,” he says. “Not a day before that.”

 

A few days after, Scott leaves for the airport ten minutes later than she told him to but that’s partly her fault, because she kind of doesn’t want to stop kissing him goodbye. He indulges her, as he always does, and so he ends up texting her from the tarmac that it’s her fault he nearly died rushing through the airport to get to his gate in time. She texts him back a couple of emojis and then sets out to rewatch almost the entire run of Suits to keep her mind off the fact that she might be a Mom by the next time Scott leaves for Worlds. It works surprisingly well. By the time she drives back to the doctor’s office late on Saturday, she has not gotten much sleep but is pretty sure she could negotiate a damn good settlement for someone and is resolved to buy some new business dresses.

Only that when she browsed the web earlier, she’d been looking at maternity labels and thinks that she will cry no matter what the result of her blood test is. On the one hand, she is terrified of the prospect of having a child but on the other hand, if she’s not going to, she already feels the loss of the imaginary baby she has dreamed up when she couldn’t help it.

 

“Mrs. Virtue-Moir,” says her doctor once Tessa has sat down at the table opposite of her and looks at her with an open smile. “How’ve you been?”

“Good,” she says. “I think. Still nauseous and I couldn’t really sleep this week but that’s because of the nerves, I guess.”

“Well, let’s cut to the chase then,” the doctor says and keeps her eyes on her, taking a breath before she goes on. “The blood work confirms that you are indeed pregnant. And as suspected, it puts you at eight to twelve weeks.”

 

 _Woah_. Tessa needs a moment. A long, long moment.

 

“Congratulations,” the doctor says and then pauses when she sees Tessa’s face. “Or...do you want to talk about options?”

“No, no, no, not at all,” Tessa says quickly, no options necessary. “But I mean, we weren’t trying for a baby, so it’s a little unexpected. I need to wrap my head around it, I think.”

“Of course,” the doctor smiles brightly. “Take all the time you need. I’m going to quickly get you the brochures and info sheets so we can talk about what’s next. Once you give the go ahead, of course.”

She stands up from the table and then heads for the door but Tessa calls her back before she even reaches for the handle.

“You won’t tell anyone, right?” She asks. “With Scott and I...people pry a little.”

“Hippocratic oath,” the doctor shrugs and grins. “Secret’s safe with me. But on a personal note...seriously, congratulations!”

And with that she’s out the door.

 

Tessa tells her Mom first. She doesn’t even wait until she’s home, she calls her from the car.

“Oh my God, are you serious?” Her voice blares through the car speakers as she turns onto the road from the doctor’s office parking lot.

“Yup,” Tessa confirms, “I’m at around two months, so I really shouldn’t be telling anybody yet but I haven’t told Scott and I have to tell _somebody_.”

“Oh, why haven’t you told him?”

“Because I literally had it confirmed twenty minutes ago and he’s at Worlds.” She says. “And can you not tell anybody either? Especially Alma, Scott will wanna tell her.”

“Of course, baby,” her Mom promises. “Oh, my baby’s gonna have a baby! That’s such wonderful news. When will you tell Scott?”

“When he’s back I think,” she says. “I wanna do it in person.”

“Yeah, that’s better,” Kate agrees. “But you should do it like my friend Fiona’s daughter did, she made her husband a shirt that said ‘World’s Best Dad’.”

“That’s so corny,” Tessa laughs but the idea of telling Scott in a fun kind of way does sound appealing. “I don’t know how he’ll feel about it.”

“About having a child with you?” Her mother laughs. “I think he’s been dreaming about starting a family with you when you were still kids yourself.”

 

Scott doesn’t get home for another four days which is more than enough time for Tessa to imagine every possible scenario her pregnancy might go. From smooth to disastrously, she has researched everything by day two and by day three, she goes a little crazy at home which is why she takes a taxi to Gadbois to meet Marie-France who has stayed behind for child-related reasons herself. Her daughter has a big play coming up and since Patch was going to Worlds this year, it was Marie who’d stayed home. Tessa doesn’t tell her though. She’s only there because she suggested watching Abby and Max’s free dance together to which Marie-France had enthusiastically agreed and is just packing up to drive them to her house.

 

Once the livestream is running smoothly over the beamer in the spacious living room, Marie-France brings over two glasses and a bottle of red and Tessa suddenly remembers in a flash that she has definitely had wine in the last two months.

“No,” she tells her friend like a shot, shame scorching her insides red and hot. “I’m cutting out carbs right now.”

It’s a decent excuse and one that a retired athlete like Marie will understand but really, Tessa would want nothing more right now than ask her if it’s okay that she’d had alcohol while pregnant, even if she hadn’t known about it. She resolves to google it later and hopes it isn’t too bad.

“Oh, there they are,” Marie-France says, ripping Tessa from her fretting and points to the corner of the projection. There’s Abby’s signature ginger hair and Max’s afro and beside them, Patch and Scott, talking at them at the same time by the looks of it.

“Any news on how they’re doing?” Asks Tessa.

“Patrice texted earlier,” her friend says. “They’re nervous but at least they stopped fighting.”

 

“I’m impressed how they keep getting over their spats,” Tessa muses. “If Scott and I had ever fought like that we wouldn’t have made it past Juniors.”

“You and Scott were different,” Marie-France says with a wave of her hand. “You were two halves of the same person, even at that age. Abby and Max are too similar, they don’t cancel out the worst in each other, they...multiply it.”

“But they’re such good skaters,” Tessa says.

“Thanks in no small part to your husband,” the other woman shrugs and then falls silent, because the first group of skaters have their introduction, Abby and Max going first because they’re starting out. It’s an unthankful position and they will be lucky to medal today.

 

In the end, they miss Bronze by a hair and Tessa pulls her phone out to text her husband.

“This is bullsh*t,” she writes. “They should be on that podium.”

His reply is quicker than she anticipated. “It’s the best thing to happen though. Them against the world now. They’re gonna get back together tonight.”

Tessa chuckles and shows Marie-France the text and she laughs and for a moment, Tessa completely forgets that her life is about to turn completely on its head.

 

She remembers that when she gets home, settling in bed on her side because it feels weird sleeping in the middle now and she thinks about the baby again. And about Scott and how he might react when she tells him. She has turned that idea her mother gave her over and over in her head, deciding that she does want to do something cute to surprise him with it but she isn’t quite sure how. Also there’s a slither of doubt that he might not be happy about it, because it kind of messes up some of his plans for their summer and it will clash with the start of next season but then again, it’s _Scott_. Scott who loves her and who always wanted a family. So it wouldn’t be bad. Definitely a surprise but she believes a welcome one.

 

By the time Scott gets back, Tessa is nervous like she hadn’t been since they stopped competing. There’s a low rumble in her belly which is for once not courtesy of their baby but for anticipation and a little bit of fear. She has hidden her camcorder behind a vase and some cookbooks and set the gift box on the counter, the camera having already recorded the last couple of minutes of her brushing off non-existent dust from every surface of the kitchen. He said he would be here ten minutes ago.

 

When he finally, _finally_ comes through the door, he calls her name before he even plops his bag on the floor.

“In here,” she calls, pleased with how normal her voice sounds and Scott waltzes in, not looking at anything but her and scoops her up in his arms with fervour, like he had a thousand years ago on the Olympic ice in Korea and kisses her like a dying man. She doesn’t protest.

“I missed you,” he says as he puts her back down on her feet and she grins at him. “How were things.”

“Fine,” she tells him and plucks his arms off her gently. “I have a gift for you. A welcome home gift.”

She tilts her head at the box on the faux-marble of their kitchen island and he says “Ouuuuh” like he does when he’s being silly and then grins at her before casually flipping the lid off. He has no idea.

Tessa checks slyly if the red light of the camera is still on and hopes he won’t jump too far out of frame. She wants his reaction for prosperity. Hopefully it’ll be a good one.

 

On top of the white, crinkly wrapping paper sits a card she has fashioned out of one of her sketch-book pages and he picks it up because it has his name on it, reading aloud.

“My love, finally, here’s our next twenty year project.”

He shoots her a quizzical glance and she loves how he still hasn’t got a clue so she doesn’t give him a hint either. “Just look what’s in the box,” is all she says.

He complies and she holds her breath as he puts the paper to the side, gingerly, as if it would crumble to dust in his hands. Underneath is a pair of tiny, tiny, tiny shoes, the smallest she could find at a boutique downtown and it’s a wonderful three seconds watching confusion, puzzlement and then realisation chasing each other across his features. He looks back up at her then, his face a thousand page novel.

 

“No,” he breathes. “No way!”

“Yes, way,” she shrugs and grins and he snaps up, eyes wild and lifts both hands upward to fail for a second and then put both of the on the back of his head. Then he takes a step back, spins around once, covers his mouth, the “woah” he makes muffled by his palm, and shakes his head in disbelief.

“But you got the shot,” he mutters, dumbfounded once he pries his hands from his mouth.

“Too late,” she tells him.

"Are you serious?" He stares like she might really be joking.

"Hundred percent serious," she says. "I promise."

“You’re pregnant?” He asks her, as if he just really needs her to clarify that out loud. His face is the best thing she's ever seen.

“I’m pregnant,” she confirms and can feel her own split open into the brightest grin. “You’re gonna be a Dad.”

“Fuck,” he nearly screams and before he lands on the ‘K’, the first tear is streaking his face.

“Are you happy?” She asks him but he just laughs and it’s the purest, most wonderful joy. She loves him so much, her heart might burst from it.

 

And then for the second time that night, Tessa is lifted from her kitchen floor as Scott holds her high and pressed tightly against his body. Over an excessive amount of “I love you so much”-s, she starts laughing. And then crying. At the same time. This is like winning Gold all over again. Maybe better.

“We’re gonna be a family,” Scott says, close to her ear and she can hear he is crying as well.

 

Yes, this is definitely better.

 

They make love then, hardly getting to the bedroom and he revers her, he's slow and tender and soft and sweet and kisses her stomach so thoroughly it's a little bit ridiculous and Tessa Virtue really managed to marry the best man in the world.

After, they decide to take the next two days to themselves, to figure things out and just enjoy what is so new and so life-changing between the two of them.

 

Then they drive to London. And everyone they tell, Tessa plays them the video and Scott says every time, without fail, at the end of it: “And this is where I became the happiest man in the entire world.”

 

And since she is the happiest girl, they’re a perfect match.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know, I've lost control of my life. VM babies have slain me.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two Worlds later, suddenly there are two Virtue-Moir babies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also as always, dedicated to the happy chat. Follow us on instagram over at virtuexxmoir :)
> 
> Thank you tessaandscotttrash for fixing the grammar on this one.  
> The baby hat mentioned in the end can be found here: https://images.sellersourcebook.com/users/111343/dsc07683.jpg?1518989516
> 
> And I am very aware that the chances of Worlds ever being held at Berlin are slim to none, but a girl can dream, right?

If you think that a baby can’t cry for one hour straight, you are absolutely mistaken. Tessa learns this on one unfortunate occasion flying out to Germany from Montreal in March 2023 when Matilda is five months old. Starting out, she had slept almost the entire way from their home to the Munich airport and the fever she had been running the past week was forgotten. So Tessa had counted her blessings, carried her baby in the baby pouch Tilly was very slow to outgrow and pulled her carry-on through the airport, thinking that surely, for the one hour it would take to get from Munich to her destination Berlin everything would be breezy.

 

But oh, how wrong she’d been. Literally as soon as she took her seat in the small Lufthansa machine and arranged Tilly on her lap, her daughter started mewling. Now that the engine is starting to rumble, the baby’s soft cries of complain have turned into wails and Tessa is doing her best to rock her on her knee and talking to her in a calming voice but Tilly is not having it at all. But it’s fine. Babies cry, it happens, it’s not a big deal. She’ll stop eventually. Except that she doesn’t. Twenty minutes in Tessa can practically feel the annoyance radiating of very likely the entire plane and it’s not like the four rows of “First Class” separated from the rest of the passengers with a rather superfluous curtain is doing anything from keeping her daughter’s crying muffled.

 

At least nobody knows her here. On the flight from Montreal, she had a couple of people come up to her who recognised her and everyone had been sweet, except for the one guy who had tried to take a picture of Matilda. Tessa hadn’t lost her cool but had told him in not uncertain terms that he was to delete the picture in front of her eyes and have some respect for the child’s privacy. The guy had been audacious enough to ask for a picture with her to make up for the loss. She politely declined. Partly because she was carrying her daughter and she would end up on the picture anyway and also because _no._ Now, en route to Berlin, nobody wants to sneak a picture of Tilly or her, they just want them both to go away.

 

“Shh, baby, it’s alright,” Tessa coos, bringing the child up to her chest, cradling her head gently and patting her back with her other hand. “Tilda, it’s okay, it’s okay.” But Tilly won’t hear her.

“It’s the pressure,” the woman sitting next to her on the middle seat says in a faint German accent. She seems to be in her early fifties, lithe and with some lines on her face, impeccably dressed and looking like she works in business. Tessa looks at her with a face like an apology.

“It’s her first flight,” she tells her. “But she was fine all the way from Montreal.”

“Long-haul flight,” shrugs the woman, “probably a large airbus, right?” Tessa nods. “Yeah, the pressure isn’t as bad on those. The smaller the aircraft the greater the discomfort. I’m a flight attendant. Not many times to Canada but a lot of South America. I switched to short-haul when I had my boys. They’re twins, so their first flight was actually double this fun.”

“Oh no,” Tessa enthuses, over what must be classified as a shriek coming from Tilly. She does not like not being the centre of attention. “It’s okay, Til, it’s fine.”

“What’s her name?” The woman asks and at least she doesn’t glance at them like she wants to strangle Tessa’s baby.

 

This is the worst. Tessa has flown so many times cramped in Economy in a row with a crying baby or behind a crying baby or in the general vicinity of a crying baby and she’d always been so annoyed. And now here she was and that baby is hers.

“Matilda,” Tessa answers, smoothing Tilly’s jumper. “But we mostly call her Tilly for short. How old are yours?”

“They’re nine,” her neighbour replies. “Matthias and Carl. Here they are.”

She shows Tess the lock screen on her phone, the two boys grinning mischievously in a way that reminds her of Scott back in the days, their hair wild blonde mops, the same colour as their mother’s.

“Very beautiful boys,” Tessa compliments.

“They’re a nightmare,” the woman says but with a smile on her face. “Can’t keep out of trouble these two and you never know what they’re planning next because they have their own language that I stopped speaking a few years ago apparently.”

“Hah, yeah, me and my husband had that too, growing up.” Tessa says, earning her a double take from her neighbour. “We grew up together. We started ice dancing together at seven and nine.”

 

Somehow, Tessa still loves when people don’t know who they are. When she gets to meet someone that has no idea and just sees any other woman when they look at her, not a semi-famous Olympic athlete, and she can tell her and Scott’s story without the other person assuming they know more about it than her.

“So we’ve spent a _lot_ of time together, we had our own little world as well,” she explains. “Drove people crazy all our lives.”

 

“Where you skating professionally?” Asks the woman and Tessa has to make her repeat it twice because Tilly is so loud and completely resistant to gentle rocking. She feels so bad for her, her heart breaks. The cabin pressure is getting to her too, so she can’t imagine how the little worm feels, with absolutely no idea what is happening.

“Oh, baby I’m sorry, there’s nothing I can do,” she says to her daughter guiltily and then turns to the other woman. “We did skate professionally, yeah. Went to the Olympic Games and all.”

“How nice,” the woman smiles. “Would I have heard of you?”

“Maybe,” Tessa smiles back. “I’m Tessa, Virtue-Moir? We won twice and got silver once. We won in twenty-eighteen.”

“Nice to meet you Tessa, I’m Paula.” The lady says and holds out her hand to shake. This is a bit of a task because she has to shift Tilly in her arms to reach it. She manages though. Still, as they shake their introductions, the woman’s face turns from a cordial smile to scepticism. “But didn’t the Germans win that year?”

 

Tessa can’t help but chuckle at the scrutiny. “Aljona and Bruno,” she nods. “They won for pairs. Me and my husband won in ice dance.”

“Right, that’s two different things,” the woman, Paula, concedes and laughs heartily. “Sorry, I don’t really keep up with sports." Then another thought passes over her features and gives her pause. "But if you won in eighteen and met your husband when you were kids, that’s a really long time.”

“Yeah,” Tessa says, attempting to bounce Tilly on her knee for a change with mixed results. “We were on our twenty-first year when we won the Gold.”

Paula looks at her with a mix of fascination and disbelief. “And then you got married?”

Tessa can’t help but grin. “We did. But it had been a long time coming.”

“That’s wonderful,” the other woman says. “And now to have such a beautiful baby together.”

“She’s our second actually,” Tessa tells her, still really enjoying to share with a stranger, to feel normal and pedestrian for once. “Our son David is thirteen months older.”

“Wasted no time?”

“Thought I couldn’t get pregnant because I was breast-feeding,” Tessa shrugs. “But then of course I did.”

 

“He’s with his grandparents?” Paula asks casually and Tessa nods.

“I debated going alone for a while but Tilly is a bit sickly these days and so I thought it was best to keep her close, keep nursing her too, that always seems to help.”

“I know the feeling,” Paula says. “She seems healthy enough now though.”

“Yes,” Tessa laughs over her loudly screaming daughter, trying hard to keep ignoring the mean looks thrown at her left and right. “But she’s a little drama queen. We always say that she is going to be the one to carry on the ice dancing torch because she is just so _dramatic._ Her brother was such a sweet little bore that age, slept through everything, never cried unless something _really_ bothered him. Tilda is stubborn as a brick.”

“Stubbornness can be a really good quality.”

“I’ll tell my husband that when he picks me up,” Tessa says.

“So you’re visiting him?” Paula asks.

“Following him. It’s Worlds,” Tessa tells her. “The World Championships in figure skating and he’s got two junior and one senior team competing. I helped a little before Tilly was born so it kind of feels like my team as well and I wanted to be there.”

 

There is a brief moment when Tilly quietens and Tessa is already looking at Paula excitedly, ready to claim victory, when the hiccupy cries spark off again and she has the right mind to wail along with her daughter. “Matilda Moir, will you please. Stop. Crying.”

Tessa winces, gathering the child up closer to her chest, the frantic screams now blaring into her eardrum and she rocks back and forth, turning to Paula. “I’m so sorry!”

“She’s a baby,” Paula shrugs. “Babies cry. You bet she’ll stop as soon as the plane does.”

 

She doesn’t. Through the rest of the twenty minutes in the air, including a drink run by the flight attendants and an entire conversation about Paula’s sons, through Taxi on the tarmac and the entire time it takes to get out of the plane and into Tegel airport and around to baggage claim, Tilly cries; louder whenever her mother is pre-occupied. Paula does her the solid of pulling her carry-on but only until she gets her luggage a bit faster than Tessa and bids her a fond farewell, wishing her good luck at Worlds and all the best for her “darling baby girl” (that’s a direct quote which Tessa assumes is her being nice in the face of the little monster she is waltzing through the airport). After, T is alone with a screaming baby sitting on her hip, a carry-on and a giant suitcase that doesn’t only have her clothes and tons of baby stuff but also three pants and a shirt of Scott’s which he had forgotten at home despite the fact that she had _laid them out for him_ before he went.

 

Suffice it to say that by the time she exits the glass doors into the arrival hall, she is ready to kill someone and her nerves are frayed enough to not even appreciate Scott’s handmade “Holly Golightly”-sign for her when she spots him waiting in front of the exit (which is really cute seeing as there are about three people other than him standing around and it’s not exactly a big waiting area, she practically walks out of the door and into his arms).

And yes, her heart does skip a beat seeing him there but her joy at being reunited (it's been barely a week but still) and his face lighting up like a Christmas tree is merely enough to put a weak, tired smile on her face as she pulls two suitcases with one hand and balances an ever hiccup-crying Tilly on her hip until she is far enough out to just stop walking and have him take the last two steps to meet her. She wants to sleep for a million years.

“Babe,” Scott greets her, meeting her face first and kissing her softly for a lingering moment that she embraces with her whole soul and then once he leans away she looks down at their bawling baby and helplessly shakes her head.

“She’s been like this since Munich,” she tells him and feels tears of exhaustion pooling in the corners of her eyes.

 

Scott, who is not sleep deprived, looks like he is having the best day of his life and as handsome as he ever has in his navy jacket and light blue striped dress shirt and jeans, grins at her like she’s brought him a great gift instead of a terror toddler and bends down to Tilly who only now seems to realise that her father is there.

“Hello, my beautiful baby,” he coos. “Are you giving your Mom a hard time? Said, are you giving her a hard time?” And then he swoops her up in his arms with an assuredness Tessa will never stop loving about him, such a natural ease with their children that no one ever had to teach him, and the second Tilly is in his arms, she stops crying.

 

That terrible, terrible, no good little girl stops crying on the spot and even has the gall to grin a toothless grin at her Dad as if nothing had ever happened and Scott turns both his face and his daughter to Tessa, looking for approval.

“I hate you so much,” is all he gets for his trouble and it doesn’t come out sounding that jokey. “Seriously, she’s been crying for almost one and a half hours straight.”

“Aw, babe,” Scott says and strokes out the stiffness in her right arm (the baby carrying arm) with his free one. “It’s just because I’m more exciting than complaining right now.”

“No, I’m a terrible mother,” Tessa says with exhaustion-riddled resignation, looking at her infant daughter who in turn studies her father’s features like he is made of sparkling diamonds (Tessa knows that look from how it feels on her own face). “She hates me.”

“No she doesn’t,” Scott says and closes the distance between them again, using his free hand now to draw her in, half smooshing Tilly in between them. Of course their flop child can’t find fault with that uncomfortable situation this time either, naturally because her father got her into it. It’s so unfair.

 

“This is so unfair,” Tessa says a second before Scott’s lips land on hers once more and he kisses her deeply this time until he leans back out to talk again.

“You are perfect.” Followed by another peck on her lips. “And we’re going to the hotel now and I’ll entertain this little monster while you take a nice long bath and relax. You did wonderful today, that flight is a lot handle with a baby.”

“I love you,” she says gratefully and he grins.

“I love you too, so much,” he tells her under the watchful eye of their daughter. “And the only people on the planet who love you more than me are our children.”

“I think right now you love me a little more than this one,” she sighs but is happy about the support.

“Differently, maybe,” Scott says and then winks. “Way differently once she’s asleep.”

With that, he takes the big suitcase from her and pulls it with him, leaving her with the lighter carry-on and a frown.

“I’m not having sex with you tonight, I’m exhausted,” she says under her breath as they walk side by side.

“We’ll see,” he smirks, throwing in a suggestive eyebrow wiggle.

 

Three hours later when it’s already dark out, Tilly is fast asleep and Tessa, bathed and nice smelling once more, collapses on Scott’s naked body, her body still singing with aftershocks.

“I hate you,” she tells him as she puts half her body on his, tucking her head into the crook of his neck.

“You’ve said that before,” he grins, she can feel it in the way his jaw moves against her head.

“I’m sleeping in tomorrow.”

“Wouldn’t have expected anything less,” he mutters, gently rubbing circles onto her bare back. “I don’t have to be at the rink until twelve, so I’ll handle the monster.”

 

She nods and invites in the tiredness she had pushed off earlier in favour of making love to her husband and it pulls her under like a tidal wave.

“Babe,” Scott says when she is almost asleep.

“Hm?” She’s barely coherent, what does he want? “Let’s have another one.”

“Leave me alone,” she tells him sleepily and smacks him in the chest with as much strength as she can muster in her current state.

“I’m serious,” he chuckles. “Let’s have another one.”

“Let’s get the two that we have out of the woods first,” she says drowsily, unwilling to have this conversation right now.

“That’s not a no,” he notes, triumph in his voice. “One more Moir?”

“Yeah, fine,” she says, because she’s okay with it but mostly because she wants him to shut up. “But not right now.”

“Okay,” he agrees and then, thankfully, let’s her fall asleep on him.

 

***

 

Scott wakes up to frantic crying from the crib in the corner. Tessa doesn’t move. She stirs, which is how he knows she’s woken up as well but he simply pats her arm, tells her it’s okay and handles Tilly like he promised he would. It’s not a chore either. He has missed the little bean as much as he’d missed her mother, as much as he misses little Davey at home.

And while he is happy that his son gets to spend a week with his grandparents in Ilderton, experiencing at least a little of the small town childhood that he himself had come to cherish so much (even if he probably won’t remember a lot from that stint, seeing as he’s just a year and a half old), Scott still would be really happy to have his whole family together right now. But to have Tessa travel with two children under two for a roughly ten-hour flight is something he couldn’t and wouldn’t want to put her through. Plus his mother had been so happy when he’d asked if he could bring over David for a week, parting had been a little easier.

 

Not that it would ever be easy. He has spent a lot of time talking to Patch about navigating being both a father and a coach on the international circuit, which meant traveling, being away a lot and then more travelling half-raising children that weren’t his own. For a couple of rough weeks when Tilly was really little (even littler than she was now because apparently Tess and him were only capable of producing really tiny humans), he had been irritable in the face of going away to competitions with his teams and had it had caused some discord between him and Tessa. After two very long and partially uncomfortable conversations, they had gotten to the bottom of it together: he was afraid that she would think of him as an absent father and would start to resent him after she’d (understandably) been not completely happy with him leaving her alone with a toddler and a newborn but most importantly, he was angry at himself because he felt he had to be there for Abby and Max on the senior stage but at the same time was _terrified_ of being an absent father and that he’d come to resent himself in time.

 

But they’d come to an agreement, that Tessa and the children would travel with him as often as her schedule and the timing allowed and that he would make sure that when he was home to have as much family time as possible. Patch had told him that it was really all about making the hours with his family worth it and Scott had followed this advice diligently in the months prior. And it was going great so far, at least he thinks it does. Tessa seemed happy the night before too, if understandably exhausted. He makes mental note to ask her if they have a quiet moment to themselves today if she is still okay with things, if she’s still happy. Because if she isn’t, they need to re-evaluate. And then, in a flash, while he changes Matilda’s diaper, he remembers that he had asked her to have another baby the night before. He feels bad suddenly. He hadn’t thought much, still riding the high that was being with her and so happy to see his daughter again that he hadn’t even paused to think that having another baby would mean Tessa potentially alone with three kids for long stretches of time. Scott just made the babies with her and then left to travel the world and glue on sequins.

 

“Babe, I think that’s enough baby powder,” Tessa’s voice comes muffled and drowsy from the bed and Scott stills in his movements to look at the mess he’s made. In his thoughts, he has put way too much powder on the baby, so much so that she now looks like she’s covered in snow. “What are you doing?” Tessa laughs and he turns over his shoulder, kneeling in front of the couch in the suite’s bedroom where he’d put Tilly to change, and can’t see much more of his wife than crumpled white sheets and a mess of dark brown hair.

“I was thinking about something,” he says, closing the diaper over the mess and rubbing everything above the waist-band gently off his daughters belly. Tessa finally sits up enough to cast a smirk at him which he feels more than he sees it buttoning up Tilly’s body suit. “Why are you even awake?”

“Jet lag,” Tessa shrugs, and sits up fully. “What were you thinking about?”

“Us,” Scott answers truthfully as he lifts Tilly up gently, careful to steady her head, even if she can hold it herself well by now. She chuckles a bit, content with her clean diaper and both her parents around her for now. Tessa’s eyes follow him all the way to the bed where he passes the baby over to her to sit down next to her. She’s pushed her tank up over her left breast before he has even sat back against the headboard and Tilly is squirming forward, her little head angling forward to reach her food.

Tessa winces a little bit when their daughter starts sucking for milk and Scott leans over to kiss his wife’s forehead. There is something so wonderful about watching her nurse. Everything their children need, she can provide, love and strength and even nourishment. It’s astonishing. She’d done so amazingly giving birth as well, both times, with Tilly even more so because her body had barely healed from having David. And he just decided that he wanted to put her through that once more when she was half-passed out and she had agreed and now he feels bad.

 

“What is it?” Tessa asks, frowning at his frown, cradling Tilly and positioning her a little higher to ease the strain on her neck.

“About last night,” he starts and rests his head lightly against hers. “We don’t have to have another baby for my sake and absolutely not right now. I was just so happy to see you both, I got a little carried away. You just had one right after the other and I’m over here watching you be a darn superhero and just keep asking for more.”

“Scotty.” Her voice is sweet but she still bumps her head against admonishingly. “I meant what I said. We _can_ have another one, just not quite yet.”

“I just don’t want you to feel pressured,” he tells her earnestly.

“I don’t,” she assures him. “Because I know if I’d said no you would’ve accepted it. Because you’d have accepted it even if I didn’t want children or couldn’t have them at all.”

It’s the truth and something about the fact that there is no wavering or doubt in her voice, that she is as sure of his love as he is about it, seems like one of the greatest honours of his life.

“I’m happy being a Mom,” she says to a question he didn’t need to ask. “I’m even more happy that I get to be the mother of _your_ children. With them it’s like with the Olympics, I’m always gonna want one more. But give us a little time here.”

She inclines her head towards Tilda, breathes a kiss on the feathery brown hair on her head and then plucks her from one breast to put her on the other.

“I will, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she says. “I’m glad you still want to do this with me.”

“I want to do absolutely everything with you,” he replies, voice raw with honesty.

“I know,” she grins. “Me too.”

 

At noon and after a generous, long room-service breakfast with a large cappuccino for Tessa (because one cup of coffee a day while breastfeeding is completely okay, which was the first thing Tessa googled when she started nursing David), the Moirs arrive at the Mercedes-Benz Arena smack dab in the middle of the city. Tessa has got her special visitor’s pass that allows her to get into the mixed zone but not on the ground floor, so she greets Abby and Max warmly, wishes them the best of luck and accepts a pretty long kiss for good luck from Scott and then takes over Tilly from his arms after their baby gets a kiss for good luck as well and the two of them go to take their seats on the stands above the Kiss and Cry.

 

“That hat is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen,” Abby says as soon as Scott finds his senior skaters again, warming up in a corner close to the rink. He can’t help but grin. The first thing Skate Canada had done once Tessa and him had announced that they were going to have a baby when she was pregnant with David was to send them a full Team Canada baby outfit, perfect with the jacket and little toque hat with two pom poms (so they look like ears!) that Tilly is sporting right now. It’s cheesy maybe, but damnit, it’s Worlds and they have a team that is in a pretty good place for getting Gold this year so they will roll in in style.

“All for you guys,” Scott tells her. “Ready to kick some ass?”

“Always,” Abby grins and catches his high-five with vigour.

He’s so proud of them, they’re so ready now. Now that they finally realised that them being a couple is terrible for their skating and have decided to postpone anything in that vein indefinitely, they have built the right kind of foundation to transcend their skills from world-class to damn-near perfection and it’s a joy to watch them take the ice. Marie-France likes to say (to him in private) that they would have never gotten to where they are right now without him, rising from obscurity to Gold-medal contenders in record time but really, Scott just worked with the immense potential that was already there and put it into the right channels to help them shine.

 

“Ha, Scott, look!” Abby says now and points excitedly to the live-feed on the jumbotron where a camera-person has just caught Tessa unawares, cuddling Tilly with her heartbreakingly cute little hat and chubby cheeks and big fat baby chuckle and a second later whoever has just been watching the screens says “Awww”. Tessa looks up and around and finally sees her face looking back at her from the centre of the ceiling and smiles and waves. Scott can see the camera trained on him from the corner of his eye but he doesn’t care. He just whips around to face the Kiss & Cry and wave back to her. She sees and even from so far, she can see her smile just for him.

 

No matter what happens tonight, this is the most golden it will get for him. He really is the luckiest guy in the world.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments keep the content coming, so I appreciate every last one!!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A GIANT thank you to tessaandscotttrash who wrote the hockey game portion of this for me because I have no idea about hockey and have never seen a game in my life, so all the credit for that goes to her! THANK YOU SO MUCH!!

Scott watches Tessa glance wistfully at the ice in front of them. She has struggled these last few years to make time to skate in her schedule. Between raising three children with him and sustaining an impressive career in design and as ambassador to many a cause, her passion for ice dance has taken the back burner. But he knows that by now she has made her peace with the fact that she won’t ever get back into Olympic or even competitive shape ever again and that her skating isn’t as technically sound as it had once been. By now, that’s okay. By now, both of them have accepted the fact that they’re, quite frankly, _aging._

 

But back in the days when Matty was old enough for a babysitter, when David and Tilly had started Kindergarten and Tessa took the ice again, she had been devastated to find that her legs were wobbly and her edges were off and when Scott tried to lift her into a simple rotational, she forgot when to change her grip which nearly sent them both crashing. She had made an easy quip about it but he could see in her face that it killed her. Still, having three children in the span of five and a half years, had meant virtually no skating for Tessa in as much time, so it really wasn’t that much of a surprise that she was rusty (which was putting it nicely). It takes a toll on muscle memory and capability to be out this long and Scott had felt reminded of the dark time after her first surgery when she had to re-learn everything she had missed. Only that after starting their family, there was no hope to with the children and her business endeavours and he could tell it broke her heart.

 

“I’m not a skater anymore,” she told him one evening a couple of months later, after having watched him coach a junior couple from the boards. “Now I’m someone who _likes to skate._ ”

“Babe, you’ll always be a skater,” he had replied softly and cupped her cheek.

“No.” She had leaned into his touch and smiled sadly. “But that’s okay. I’m a Mom and I’m an entrepreneur instead. It’s fine.”

“Kiddo, you will always be a skater to me,” he had whispered earnestly. “You’ll always be my skating partner.”

“Skating partner,” she’d echoed on a grin with a little emphasis, calling back to a million years ago when they had come fresh out of winning their second Olympics and skating partners had been all they were in the public eye.

 

Nowadays, walking into a slightly bigger rink than they are used to from Gadbois, they are known as a family. Scott, the acclaimed ice dance coach and Tessa, the business woman and their children, who are starting to steal their thunder in earnest now. Today it’s all about Matt. A month away from his fourteenth birthday, he is playing Bantam AAA Rep and is making a name for himself beyond that of his parents and Scott couldn’t be prouder. The “Moir” on Matt’s back makes Scott smile every time his son races by him on the ice. The game today is important for the league and the air is thick with anticipation. The whole car ride over, Matt hasn’t spoken and had eventually complained to his brother and sister about their incessant bickering on the back seat, something about having to concentrate.

 

Tilly had fallen silent sheepishly, knowing from her own experience in figure skating (Singles Women, 4th at the last World Championships a month ago! At sixteen and a half!) that it was hard to stay focused before a big competition.

“I just wanted to catch up,” she had said to her brother after a moment. “I missed David’s last two girlfriends over last season.”

“Shut up,” David snapped but not without humour and Scott laughed from the driver’s seat.

“Don’t encourage them,” Tessa admonished beside him. “Language, guys.”

“You can talk to me, Tils,” Scott offered his daughter over his shoulder. “I’ll catch you up.”

“You don’t know anything,” Tilly sighed and he supposed she was right. It’s hard to keep track of what his kids are getting into these days because they’re starting to confide in other people more and more, people who aren’t their parents and that hurts a little. But it’s all natural, he figures.

 

His children are growing up steadily and achieving their own successes and Til especially is already as independent as her parents were that age, having moved to Vancouver a year ago on her own to train at Chiddy’s school, maybe even more so because she was doing it all on her own with no partner to be there for her when the pressure was mounting. Watching her compete at Worlds had been a moment of utmost pride for Tessa and Scott and Matt was still sad to not have seen it in person. Their youngest had decided to not miss any game of the hockey season with the same commitment and willingness to sacrifice that Tessa had once showed, giving up Ballet because she’d already been committed to Scott as a kid. So he had stayed behind with Patch and Billie-Rose while his parents and brother went with the Gadbois travel party half around the globe. David had missed school for it but with his grades it really wasn’t that big of a deal. Having Tilly back now for a month of “vacation” after Worlds is wonderful too and so it was a quick decision to get the whole family together for Matt’s game for some much needed family time.

 

Now that Scott follows Tessa, Tilly and David up the stands to take their places a couple of rows away from the glass, he is really happy that they did it. Matty had ducked away into the athletes entrance after (for once) accepting long hugs from his parents and was now probably getting changed and psyched up. Meanwhile Tilly and David were quibbling about who would get drinks and by the end of that, David demands Tessa’s wallet to get them all beverages (because Tilly says she doesn’t want to get recognized to which David had snickered). It’s not like they hadn’t already been recognized. But these days it’s their daughter who is stopped more for autographs, which is sublimely weird. Seeing her winding signature spelling “Matilda Moir” (the two M’s artfully entwined) on whatever piece of paper or merchandise people have handy is still somewhat disconcerting.

 

Having the whole Virtue-Moir family on outings together still turns heads though and on the way to their seats, they’ve already been stopped by a local reporter to give a short interview about the game and Worlds and what is new for them. They’ll watch it later and David will undoubtedly comment on the fact that he looks like he’s adopted because he’s grown almost a full head taller than his father and Tilly will be annoyed with the way her answer to the “judging in figure skating”-question was cut and Scott and Tessa will not comment on the fact that they look a bit older in front of the camera than they feel but will know it anyway.

 

Scott’s hair has started greying on the sides and the beard he never lets grow for more than a day or two (because even after all this time he can barely muster a mustache), has started to come out white in patches. The lines around his eyes and mouth have only deepened with time but he doesn’t mind, it tells of a life spent mostly laughing.

 

Even at fifty, Tessa will always look nineteen to him, nineteen and freckled and soft like a summer morning. She dyes the few grey hairs on her head away still, having switched from raven black back to a more natural chestnut brown but she does occasionally muse aloud if she might try Botox one of these days. Scott is not a fan and he believes his sneers at the topic are a pretty large part of the reason why she hasn’t done it yet.

“You don’t need that, kiddo,” he tells her whenever it comes up.

“I think at this point you can stop calling me kiddo, eh?” She countered once.

“Never,” he had replied.

 

“Mom, can we sit down tomorrow and have a look at my music for next season? I wanna start making some costume notes,” Tilly says, talking over Scott who sits between his women. “I think I want to go dark blue for the Free.”

Scott watches Tessa think. “Are you still going to do that Greatest Showman one?”

“Unless Chiddy kills me first,” Tilly replies. “He thinks it’s too cheesy and overused.”

“Well, you can remind him of twenty-eighteen when cheesy and overused got us Gold,” Scott throws in. “Twice.”

“Maybe I’ll just skate to Moulin Rouge in Tallinn,” Tilly shrugs. “Just for the laughs.”

“I don’t think that would be the best choice for your first Olympics, honey,” Tessa says with a frown.

“I was kidding, Mom,” she tells her with an eye-roll but then pulls a face like she’s considering it anyway. “I might put it in my Ex though.”

“Let’s remember that it’s still three years out,” Scott says, padding Tilly’s knee and then putting his other hand on her mother’s thigh. “A lot of work still to do until we get there.”

“What do you mean, I don’t get automatic legacy entry?” She deadpans sarcastically and then grins Tessa’s grin back at him.

 

“Make way for the man with the drinks,” David hollers as he walks back to them, storking past his families legs and handing his parents each a beer and his sister a Coke.

“They sold you beer?” Scott asks the second it computes that his seventeen-year-old has just handed him a cold one and David shrugs as he sits down, sipping from his own Coke before he even sits.

“I told you I look older now,” he says once he’s stopped drinking.

“I think it’s more the fact that his voice actually broke,” Tessa grins.

“As opposed to who?” Scott asks in a high-pitch, clasping his chest dramatically and knows exactly who she is talking about.

“Look, guys, there’s Matty,” Tilly says and points to where her brother is just skating out onto the ice with his teammates.

 

It seems like yesterday that he was just a little marshmallow, scoring his first ever goal, he’s so big now it breaks Scott’s heart a little bit. He takes Tessa’s hand when she reaches for it and smiles over at her, finding the same bittersweet pride reflected in her eyes and then focuses back on the ice when the team’s names are read out. When it comes to Matt’s position, the voice on speaker says: “ _Matthias_ Moir” and Scott can see Matt flinch from where he sits.

“It’s Ma-tee-as,” he says usually when people don’t call him Matt like they mostly do. “The ‘th’ is silent.”

Because once upon a time Tessa had sat on a plane next to a German flight attendant who had a son named Matthias and she had obviously pronounced it in that German-no _-th_ -way and Tessa had fallen in love with it. So they had sentenced their darling son to a lifetime of correcting people’s pronunciation of his name. But Scott didn’t feel too guilty, it didn’t happen that often anyway, not since Tessa set the record straight on his name when he was still a little boy and she was asked about their family in an interview. Now it was just the occasional sub teacher who’d lived under a rock the past ten years or someone reading player names ahead of a minor hockey game who got it wrong.

 

“You did that to him,” Scott mutters to Tessa under his breath in jest and she buffs his side as if they were kids again.

“You loved the name, don’t even start with me.” She says and he grins.

“I did,” he says her, softening. “I do.”

“So, they can learn it,” she declares looking across the rink as if she means all of them and the world at large. Because people would know their children’s names. They have no doubt about that.

“Shh, Mom, it’s starting,” Tilly says from Scott’s side and he pulls a face at Tessa as if they’re back training in Kitchener-Waterloo, being silly children and getting caught talking.

 

Then the game starts and soon, Scott is only commenting on that. (Well, he’d call it commenting, his wife would call it yelling and making a fool of himself.)

 

Matt is on the starting line. He starts off strong by winning the face off, which only fuels Scott’s pride. He makes a great play in the offensive zone to his team mate which results in the nicest cross crease goal his family has ever witnessed. When the horn sounds and the crowd cheers, Tessa and Scott are both on their feet, and Scott yells “My son set that up!” out towards the rink.

 

Tessa and Scott revel in the fact that their son is one of the best players in the league and they aren’t afraid to show their pride. It is however Tessa who sits back down quickly and Tilly who pulls at her Dad’s sleeve to settle in again as well. He gives them both a look of mild exasperation and follows reluctantly, sipping from his beer and analysing what they’ve just seen in great detail.

 

The second period starts off well, and halfway through, Matt picks up on the fact that a player on the other team starts to get a little chippy. It’s something Scott has noticed before, but this time it feels different. He can see his son fume with anger every time he skates by the stands. Tessa tells him that “he’s just really into the game, I don’t think he’s that angry.” So Scott brushes it off. That is until the play is stopped, and Matt throws a punch. It happens too quickly for Scott to see exactly what caused it but Matty shoots forward at the other player and looks more like a man at a bar brawl than a little boy in a sandbox fight. These kinds of altercations are common place in hockey as everybody knows but so far Matt has stayed mostly out of them. Tessa sits in a state of shock cause Matt isn’t one to be aggressive, while Scott jumps to his feet, wanting to simultaneously slap his kid upside the head, but also cheer him on. After getting a second punch in, Matt is hauled off the ice by a couple of his team mates before it can get any more heated and he goes straight to the dressing room.

 

“Did they kick him out?” Tilly asks her Dad, confused.

“I’m not sure, we’ll have to see if he comes back” Scott says honestly.

“What the hell happened?” David wants to know. Scott has no answer.

 

When the break between the second and third period is over, Matt returns to the bench with his team and Tessa and Scott both breathe a heavy sigh of relief. Matt has a rough third. He can’t catch a pass, or set up a play, and his parents can tell he’s psyched out. The player from the other team and him are almost skating parameter, keep bumping into each other and Scott can see that Matty is really trying to steer clear of him but that it’s difficult. Needless to say Scott is hollering at the ref to get that other kid off the ice if he can’t get it together. Over that whole thing, he misses the last play of the game but doesn’t miss how Matt screws up the pass that could’ve meant victory and instead the game is called a loss for his team, unceremoniously and anticlimactic. Matt bows his head and Scott sinks back to his seat, careful to keep his face in check in case anybody looks too closely at them.

 

The game ends and Scott turns to Tessa, wincing.

“We should be there when he gets out of the locker room,” she says gravely and he nods and turns to his children.

“We’ll meet you guys at the car, eh?” He says and Tilly and David both wobble their heads. They’ll have their moment with their brother soon enough. Right now, they all have a pretty good idea that he needs his parents.

 

On the way through the crowd, the two of them are stopped twice but Tessa excuses themselves politely both times, saying that they can’t stay to chat unfortunately and because everyone there has seen the game as well, they’re met with only sympathetic understanding. They run into Matt’s coach on the way to the changing rooms and he pats Scott’s shoulder.

“I already told him not to worry about it but he’s beating himself up a bit,” the other man tells him.

“Yeah, we’ll talk to him,” Scott tells him, shakes his hand and then they’re on their way to join some of the other parents waiting there to greet their boys.

Three of them come out before Matt and when he does, he turns right out of the door, sees them and stomps to the exit. Tessa and Scott share a look and then walk after him.

 

Their youngest bursts through the double doors and the moment he’s outside, he kicks a garbage can.

“This is stupid,” he yells. “It’s unfair. I didn’t mean to...I...I was on it! That guy just kept coming at me.” Now he turns around at them, his face pink and his jaw locked in a way Scott can feel on his face from when he is angry. “It’s stupid! It wasn’t my fault!”

“Matty,” Tessa says empathetically and closes the distance to him to put her hand on his face. He pushes it away. The image of it stings in Scott’s chest because back when they were his age, it had been them, just like that. Tessa trying to console him, to somehow reign in his temper and him pushing her away. He steps in, catching T’s hand on the way and inclines his head to speak to his boy.

 

“Hey buddy,” he starts, “let’s walk for a minute okay?”

Matt looks at the ground but starts moving anyway but not without kicking a pebble towards the parking lot. Scott interlocks his fingers with Tessa’s and they squeeze to each other a silent agreement to let him do the talking.

“You know how your Mom and I have had a pretty long career in competitive sports?”

“Yeah,” he says without any enthusiasm and kicks another rock across the pavement. “ _I’ve heard_.”

Scott traces the rocks trail, squinting into the setting sun that casts the whole lot in an orange tint. His son is already as sarcastic as his siblings and he is at once proud and shocked at the same time. Of course their children know the war stories of the past, have seen some of their programs, have even seen them skate live when they were smaller but for his son to sound so jaded about it, like it’s old news and he doesn’t care still hurts somehow. But then again, Scott won’t hold it against him, not after the game he’s just had.

 

“Well, because we had such a long career, we’ve been through many ups and downs,” he begins again, earning himself an encouraging smile and a soft hand squeeze from Tessa. “And through the many, many downs, we learned some pretty important things.” When Matt doesn’t say anything to shut his Dad off from spouting some wisdom, Scott goes ahead. “We learned that it’s important not to define yourself by your sport. It’s great that you’re doing it and you’re great at it but you’re not just a hockey player. That’s not who you are. Hey, look at me.”

With that Scott halts, Tessa lets go of him as if on some silent cue and he turns to Matty to grab him by the shoulders, make him stop and look up at him. “You’re you, you’re a whole person and a win or a defeat in a game says nothing about what’s in your heart. No mistake does either. You’re brilliant, kiddo, and smart and kind and hilarious and you’re a son, a brother, a friend, before you’re anything else. You play hockey and you’re damn good at it but there’s so much more to you. That’s why today doesn’t define you either. Sure, it stinks what happened on that ice today and like, I was half standing on the bench as well, like I’m sure you heard but it’s gonna be okay. There’ll be a next game and that’ll be better. And next time you’ll handle it.”

 

“But what if they kick me off the team?” His son asks him, with watery eyes and sincere panic.

“They won’t,” Scott promises him. “You’ve had such a stellar season and people are allowed to make mistakes. You’re not a machine, you’re not supposed to be. You’re supposed to have fun.”

“But I need to be _perfect_ ,” he tells him and then looks over to his mother hoping that she understands the sentiment.

“Perfection doesn’t exist,” Tessa says, like Scott knew she would. “It’s okay to want to be excellent and you’ve been working so hard, baby. I understand. But every mistake and every loss is a lesson. This is how you get better, this is how you get _excellent._ And please don’t ever think you have to be perfect. That’s not attainable. You’re right just the way you are and it’s okay to not do everything right all the time.”

“Are you hearing us, buddy?” Scott asks him, squeezing his shoulder and pulling Tessa in with his other arm. “We love you. For exactly who you are.”

 

“The guy said I’m only on the team because my family is famous,” Matt says then, finally coming out with the reason why he was so angry.

“Do you think that’s true?” Scott asks him in earnest, knowing that it’s not. Matt had never gotten anything handed to him in hockey, he was just that good. And nobody, least of all Scott himself had expected that any son of his would ever be this talented in the sport.

“No,” Matt says decidedly and Scott smiles.

“Exactly,” he tells him. “You did it all on your own. And we’re so proud of you, always.”

 

Instead of answering, Matty just launches himself at Scott and wraps his arm around him and as far around Tessa as he can and the two of them return the embrace with all the warmth and support they feel.

“You did so good out there,” Tessa says, kisses his head and then puts her forehead next to Scott’s. “Next time will be better, baby.”

 

It’s good that she’s here, it’s always better to deal with these moments together. Scott counts his blessings every day to have her as a partner in life and in raising their children. For seventeen years, she has done the most amazing things. Through the first years when it was mainly navigating and scheduling and nourishing and then the endlessly stressful childhood years of handling three wildly energetic and sporty children who needed to be at seven different places at once at the same time at any given moment, as well as his schedule as well as her schedule and somehow making it all work. And now their children are growing up, two of them already on the outskirts of adulthood and Scott really has no idea how they got through _that._

 

But the important thing is that, like everything, they’ve done it together. They’ve done it hand in hand and cheek to cheek and they’re still doing it, still going strong. And while of course they fight on occasion, they’re careful to never do it in front of the children and keep getting in regular therapy sessions to boot. They’re not too proud to admit that they need them. They love each other and they work well together but their marriage, just like any marriage, is hard work. But since talking about their feelings, their bond and life together is what they’ve done for about forty years now, they’re damn good at it and if Scott had to put three words together to describe their marriage, it would be solid, loyal and loving.

 

They’re it for each other, have always been and if everything else in the world were to fall apart, he would have that. He would have Tessa and their sarcastic know-it-all children (who all three have a heart of gold, mind you) and that would be enough. There’s nothing else he needs more in this life than his family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your kind comments, they seriously mean the world! 
> 
> Now that every child has had it's chapter I'm really excited to hear if you want me to continue in this verse and add other chapters about other instances in their lives..feedback or scenes that would interest you are absolutely welcome! Thank you!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Moir girl goes to the Olympics.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this monster just keeps on growing (and no, I am not talking about Tilly). This fic is kind of running away with me and I can tell you I have at least one more chapter planned, with David in the focus and then maybe another of when the kids were really small.
> 
> Thank you so much for your support so far, I hope those Virtue-Moir babies make you as happy as they make me.
> 
> For this chapter, I owe endless thanks to silver-elysium who helped me tremendously with skating terms and insights into how that whole shebang works, because I so totally have no idea! So everything here that sounds remotely like I know anything about the skating world is entirely thanks to her :D
> 
> So here it goes...

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Scott hollers and puts his spoon down.

“What?” Tilly asks in honest puzzlement and her mother just giggles. So she turns to her. “What??”

“Your father has a problem with my oldies,” her Mom says easily while her Dad is still shaking his head over his cornflakes sitting on a barstool at the kitchen isle.

“I thought that was just about Hall and Oates?” Tilly muses, dangling her legs from where she sits on the counter.

“Not limited to,” her Dad tells her and then turns to Tessa opposite of him. “And for the record, I don’t have a problem with it per se, I’m just thinking that the kids don’t have to be skating to this old stuff.”

“Honey, we skated to Mahler and won the Olympics,” she tells him. “Doesn’t get much older than that.”

“That’s classical, not old,” Scott argues with a full mouth.

 

“Well, everybody skates to classical now, that or electro, I don’t wanna do that,” Tilly tells him. “I wanna do something different.”

“But _Wuthering Heights_?” Her Dad’s brow is furrowed and he looks like David when he’s trying to solve a math problem–or rather when David tries to solve a math problem, he looks like their Dad.

“It’s _iconic_ and the song I’d mix it with is not as old.” She says.

“No, that one is just _twenty_ years old, you’re right,” her Dad quips. “Instead of forty.”

“It’s _my_ programs, Dad,” Tilly says and it comes out a little more stubborn than she planned. “So what if it’s from before the twenties. Mostly they’re so obscure nobody will know them anyway and it’s good music. You liked _Guerra_ when I showed you. And Chiddy thinks they’re good choices.”

“Sweetie, I’m not trying to argue with you or your coach,” Scott says, his face softening the way it does when he’s being parental. “I just want to make sure you’re set up perfectly for the Olympics. And the federation-”

“Oh, screw the federation,” Tilly says, not without malice. “They can never make up their mind about what to do with me anyway.”

 

It’s true, really. Over the course of her competitive skating career (which was ten plus years in the making by now), Tilly had been moved around like a chess piece, once favoured by Skate Canada, once held back, usually depending on how much trouble her Dad was causing them with his coaching. It had gotten to a point where she hadn’t been sure for the longest time if she could even skate at all or if it was just a big game, using her as Skate Canada’s poster child at one time (when they were happy with Scott Moir) or penalizing her tiniest mistakes to no tomorrow and punishing her with bronzes and silvers and disproportionately harsh critique at High Performance camps (when they were not happy with Scott Moir). She had spent a good part of her life being bitter about it, another huge part trying to fight it but it really was no use. The only thing she could do was to deliver the best skates she could and be too good for anyone to use her for their agenda either way. But it hadn’t been easy and pandering to anybody at this point is useless.

 

Tilly’s scores or competition placements had always suffered when her Dad had been up in arms with SC about their incessant interference with his girls’ weights, his team’s costumes or music choices and most importantly those very unfortunate times (it had happened twice and then her father had put his foot down in such a way that it _never_ happened again) when they sent teams of his to Worlds with three days notice. On the other hand whenever one of his teams came back with another medal from wherever, Tilly was given leeway and great competition assignments and got to keep her music the way it was without anybody yapping about it. Yes, her music choices had always been unusual, in such a way that by now she was notorious for it but how the federation was dealing with her choices correlated directly to how much her father was pissing them off.

 

So choosing her music based on any factors other than _Do I like it?_ and _Can I skate an Olympic program to it?_ is superfluous. It won’t matter if she would skate to a medley of the highest scored singles programs of all time or the greatest song ever written or to white noise, in the end it’ll come down to how well she skates. And if she lands that stupid quadruple (which is so unlikely Chiddy is deliberating taking it out of the equation entirely). Either way, the music choice is hers and she has to be happy with it and so if her Dad isn’t, tough for him. Those are _her_ Olympic programs not his, he’s had his share of those.

 

“They won’t hold you back, Til,” her Dad says now, spooning the rest of his cereal from the bowl with that screeching sound of cutlery on ceramic and looks at her with an apology on his face. “I know they’ve been hard on you at times but Skate Canada will be nothing but supportive of you during those games. And as for the ISU-”

“-I know,” is all she says. She is very aware of the narrative, very aware of her scores, very, very aware of the fact that she is supposed to win these games.

 

But to make it interesting, they are still overscoring the Russian and the French girl and underscoring her and that’s what makes it so hard to prepare to have her best skate. Because it shifts so much what “best” is enough for the judges. It’s annoying but that’s life. It’s also annoying that the underlying narrative is that she’s gonna win because she’s a legacy. She’s the prodigy and literal progeny of Canada’s best skaters, the heir apparent to the throne, so _how cute would it be if Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir’s daughter would win a Gold medal?_ And that’s maybe the worst of it all. Because how much cooler would it be if _Matilda Moir_ won a Gold medal because she worked her ass of all her life to be the best athlete she could be? How cool would it be if people understood that she is her own person and not just someone’s daughter?

 

That’s not to say that she doesn’t love whose daughter she is. She knows how fortunate she is to have grown up in a happy home, never wanting for anything and with parents who love her unconditionally and each other still after so many years. A number of her friends aren’t that lucky. When she thinks of her friend Mona who only communicates to her father through lawyers, Tilly is infinitely glad to have both her parents at the breakfast table like this moment when she visits from Vancouver and still be sickeningly in love and so endlessly supportive of her and her brothers.

 

But following in their footsteps is hard, not because they haven’t set her up for greatness and had moved heaven and earth for her to get to every practice and every competition she needed to get where she is but because to the world at large, she will always be known as that Virtue-Moir kid who also got into skating.

 

“Baby,” says her mother, derailing her train of thought and Tilly looks up to catch her eye. She has started leaving the grey strands in her hair since Tilly was home last and she is always close to telling her that she’s not ready for that yet, she isn’t ready for her Mom to look like an older woman when Tilly herself still feels so much like a small child at times because it means that she’s getting older too.

“I like my music,” she tells her mother who nods and throws a glance at her husband.

“I like it too,” Tessa says.

“I never said I didn’t like it,” her Dad laments, somewhat defensively. “I’m happy with whatever you’re happy with and you will have a wonderful program and I’ll love it. Just as long as it isn’t Hall and Oates.”

 

It’s an easy thing to laugh along with her parents at that but it also gives her an idea. Tilly smirks, hopping down from the counter just as Matt comes back from his early morning run.

“Come on, Dad,” she tells her father and pats him on the back when she passes him, “I’ll drive. Get us to the rink before the streets clog up.”

 

***

 

A couple of months later, Scott is standing rinkside on the first day of High Performance camp, trying to focus on his senior dance teams and not check his phone every ten minutes. He is waiting on word from Tessa about Tilly’s ankle. At her own first run-through at HPC, his daughter had fallen from a quadruple jump attempt, landed badly and had to call off the rest of her day. Now, Tessa is with her at the hospital waiting for the doctor’s evaluation and Scott feels Tilly’s agony and fears about her Olympic aspirations turning to dust as if they were his own. It’s not fair, she has worked so hard, did her utmost every day to make sure she stayed healthy and ready to compete but her drive to perfect that darn jump had made her too daring, too hot-headed to be gentle with herself. And now it threatened everything she has prepared for.

 

It’s another hour until his phone rings and he hears Tessa’s breathless voice, as if she had just rushed to call him first thing.

“It’s not a sprain,” she tells him and he lets out a deep breath of relief. “She needs to keep pressure off of it for a week at least but she’ll be fully recovered before the next competition.”

“But that means no more HPC for her,” Scott says, his brow furrowed in worry still.

“Nope,” Tessa says. “But Skate Can will send someone to look at her, I’m sure.”

“Yeah, I’ll make some calls.” he tells her. “How is she?”

“Angry,” Tessa replies. “But okay. She won’t stop beating herself up about the jump.”

“She just shouldn’t do it,” Scott says. “I’ll talk to her and to Chiddy. She is doing so well, she doesn’t need it. She can do the damn triple axel twice for all I care but those quads throw her off every time and it’s too dangerous.”

“Give her a minute,” his wife cautions on the other end of the line. “She needs to cool off a bit and then she’ll come around. She just wants this so badly.”

“Sounds like someone I know,” he sighs and Tessa chuckles.

“Me too,” she says. “We’re getting her crutches now and then we’re coming by the rink. Dinner after?”

“Yeah. Have you talked to the boys?”

“I’ll call them next,” she answers. “Matt says he’s been too distracted to study for finals worrying about his sister which is a big fat lie, he just doesn’t wanna study. So I’ll call him first.”

“I’ll tell David,” Scott says. “If I can get a hold of him in Paris. It’s not too late there is it?”

“No, late afternoon.” It’s still a very good thing that he has T by his side to keep track of their children and whatever time zones they’re currently in. “I gotta go, see you soon, okay?”

“Okay, I love you.”

“Love you, too. I’ll tell the monster you said hi.”

“Tell her I love her and I’m proud of her no matter what.”

“I will.”

 

He hangs up and pockets his phone, thinking that with age and parenthood, he has definitely come around on technology. He is still not present on any of the social medias (what they’re willing to share, Tessa is taking care of) but he is using his phone a lot more these days. To keep in touch with his kids mostly who are pretty much living inside their devices. It’s nice to have them close this way when they aren’t around, which is most of the time these days.

 

It’s definitely an ongoing adjustment, realizing that his children are growing up. Realizing that with David and Tilly, Tessa and him have been through another twenty plus year “project” and Matt is well on his way to his twenties as well. It doesn’t feel like it’s been that long but also like it’s been his life for eternity; being a father. For that now to shift from the hands-on parent he prided himself on being to being the Dad who texts his kids every couple of days to hear from them while they’re off leaving their own mark on the world is weird. Sure, having some more time for Tessa and him to actually be properly alone after twenty years of mostly having to focus on raising their family, is great. But it’s still an adjustment.

 

Not that he would _ever_ complain about more time with Tessa. He knows that as long as he lives he will never get his fill of her, so he’s glad to make every moment with her worth it, even the tired mornings and the odd fight. And the Sundays and late nights spent in bed with her, revelling in her as he always has. There is a different pace to their intimacy now that they are both older, not as nimble or as crazed as they had been in the beginning of their romantic relationship, but still very much attracted to each other, still very willing to keep it new. For all the exploits of his youth, sleeping with the same woman for the last round and about twenty-five years has never left him wanting. Only Tessa, he thinks, he would’ve never been satisfied with anybody else, would always have looked for and craved something different. Had he not married her, he would have searched the globe to find someone he felt about the way he felt about her. And never would have found her. Only Tessa.

 

“Coach?” Timothée’s voice rips him from the thoughts of his wife as one half of one of his senior couples skates up to the boards to talk to him. “How’s Tilly?”

“She’ll be fine,” he tells him and Elise who joins them, looking worried. “It’s not a sprain. But she won’t be able to complete HPC.”

“Damn,” Elise mutters. “It sucks when that happens.”

She is speaking from experience. A year ago, she had sprained her ankle and was out for the rest of the season, missing Worlds. It had been a hard recovery for her, physical pain combined with weight gain she still struggled with now. Mind you, to the untrained eye it was barely noticeable (and the only people who should really be worried about it should be Tim and Ellie in regards to potential changes to their lifts or choreography and their team), but Scott hears the whispers from the stands and hates that in all his years in ice dance, this unhealthy obsession with women’s weight is still a thing.

 

It had killed him to see Tilly go through that growing up, to have people judge her weight and appearance relentlessly, to have the curves of her body commented on rather than the lines of it on the ice (which were a thing of beauty!). She had never been anything but thin and built but, like her mother, she had strong legs and was quick to show muscles, so she wasn’t quite as dainty and fragile as people wanted her to look. He’d lost it on a couple of occasions when federation officials had stepped over boundaries in that department, both with Tilly or the girls and women of the teams he coached. He had no patience for that kind of bullshit and by now, everybody knew to keep anything diet-related as far away from Scott Moir as possible. And they are darn right to. But it’s best not to dwell on that now.

“Move out guys,” he tells his team. “We’ve got work to do. Let me see those twizzles.”

 

***

 

Tilly travels to Tallinn with Chiddy’s school delegation on the same day as Scott with the Gadbois team and they arrive within half an hour of each other which means a cute video in the family group chat of her and her Dad meeting at the airport. Tessa and Matt get there a day before Tilly’s participation in the team event. David flies in from Paris where he is taking an Erasmus semester studying to become a lawyer of international business.

 

They meet up in the mixed zone (David is Tilly’s family plus one, Matty is Scott’s and Tessa is there on a press pass so that worked out well for them) for the first time all together in two months and it’s only a minute before Scott has to duck out and get back to his teams for their practice skate. It’s fine though, Tessa is okay having the kids to herself for a little while. She gets to see them less and less, so she will indulge in what time she has still left to be a proper mother.

 

“How’re you feeling, sis?” David asks his sister after a while of catching each other up, wrapping his long arm around her shoulders and pulls her closer. “Nervous?”

“Dying,” she tells him and Tessa knows exactly how her daughter feels.

That time before your first Olympic skate is the best and the worst, the shortest and the longest time in the world. She still has an hour of waiting until the ladies’ short and then about another hour until it’s actually her turn because she’s been slotted to the near end, wedged between the Russian skater and the French, as was to be expected. The air is thick with nerves and the unique bustle of any Olympic games and Tessa loves it, although she can’t decide if she loves it more than when it was her competing or now that she is rooting for her daughter. On the one hand, it’s definitely nice to be a spectator and not have any pressure on her but on the other hand, she is almost more nervous for Tilly than she ever had been for herself. The closest comparison is to how she’d always felt for Scott before they took the ice. She had loved him so much in these moments, no matter at what Olympic skate and had wanted him to achieve everything he’d trained for and reveled in his success almost separately from hers. Now she is completely removed from the competition, other than that it’s her child skating but the feeling is the same.

 

She is about to offer some encouraging words, when they are approached from behind by a lady from CBC asking for a joint interview of her and Tilly to which they agree after a brief phone call to Tilly’s media agent. Tessa takes a step back to stand behind Tilly, who should be in the focus for this and thankfully, the reporter who Tilly seems to know but Tessa has never met, asks her daughter the first question.

“Tilly, how do you feel before your first competition on Olympic ice?”

“I’m really excited,” Tilly begins, her voice level and trained because she has the experience and a knack for interviews and her mother can do no more than to listen intently and try not to burst at the seams with pride. “I’ve been pursuing this chance to skate for Canada at the Olympics for the better part of a decade and what a joy to be able to finally get out there and compete.”

 

“Can you tell us a little bit about the short program you will be skating today?”

“Oh, sure,” Tilly says. “It’s a relatively old hip hop track by Residente, a Spanish rapper and it’s called ‘Guerra’, which means war. And I just wanted something unusual for my Olympic programs and that absolutely fit the bill. People rarely use hip hop and the kind of lyrical hip hop elements I are what I was looking for for the dance, plus it’s a very strong and versatile song, it really has everything I could have asked for, so I’m really excited for it!”

“And are you nervous?” The reporter asks, echoing David from just minutes before who is standing by with Matt, staring at their phones.

“Of course but it’s a good kind of nervous,” Tilly answers. “And you know, I do feel prepared and that I can rely on my training and trust my process here. I can’t thank my team and my coach enough for working with me every step of the way to get here and supporting me the way they did and I’m so thrilled to be able to skate in the team event today and try to bring that home for Canada.”

 

“Speaking of support,” the reporter says and Tessa already knows it’s the segway to her, so she puts her smile on and rubs Tilly’s shoulder. “Tessa Virtue-Moir, you’re here today obviously to support your daughter, tell us how does it feel to have a child competing at the Olympics twenty-four years after your own Gold medal win?”

“I’m incredibly proud, of course,” Tessa says over a wide smile. “We never really expected any of our children to follow our footsteps quite this way but Tilly has chosen skating for herself when she was so little and has worked so hard to get here and it’s such a joy to get to watch her skate, to witness her passion and drive for the sport and surpass us in every way, really I couldn’t be more proud.”

“I don’t know if I’m surpassing you,” Tilly interjects expertly. “I’m happy to do my own thing out there and I don’t really think that I’d want to surpass my parents. They really changed ice dance for the better and are still such great role models for any skater and anyway, they were always together, I’m running my own show. So that’s certainly different. But of course I’m also very proud to be their daughter and carry on the torch in my own way.”

“Do you guys also keep up with Scott’s teams in the ice dance event?” The reporter asks after nodding to Tilly’s answer.

 

“Certainly,” Tessa says. “I can’t really get away from it in my house anyway and I’ve followed Elise and Timothée’s career since they were juniors, so I’m also cheering for them tonight, the same with Georgie and Devon, they’re both such great couples and we’re rooting hard for them!”

“And I’ll be with the team rinkside being the biggest cheerleader,” Tilly agrees, “I already can’t wait!”

“We can’t wait either,” the reporter smiles with a ‘wrapping this up’ voice. “We wish you all the luck in the world, all of Canada is with you today!”

“Thank you so much,” Tilly says and Tessa echoes and they smile and hold until the camera guy nods and turns the camera down.

 

“Still got it, Mom,” Tilly says once they’re back with the boys.

“Well, I’ve been doing this double the time you’re alive,” Tessa jokes. “After such a long time, some things stick with you.”

“Like everyone asking about Dad?” Her daughter asks.

“Yeah, like that,” Tessa laughs and shrugs. “But I don’t mind, I like talking about your father.”

“We know,” David says, rolling his eyes and her other children chime in with chuckles.

“Speaking of the devil,” Tessa grins when she sees Scott make his way through the crowd and waves when he spots them.

“Gang’s all here,” he says when he comes upon their little Moir-family huddle and hugs them all in turn, saving Tessa for last before putting a heavy hand on Tilly’s shoulder.

“How are you feeling, champ?” He asks his daughter who beams at him like she had when she was just a baby.

“Nervous, but okay,” she tells him.

“Brilliant,” he says. “Because I was sent to collect you. Team Canada meeting in five.”

 

Tilly makes a face as if she’s being led to the gallows for a second and Tessa can feel her stomach turn along with her daughters and doesn’t wait to wrap her in the longest hug. This is goodbye, the next time they see each other, Tilly will have become an Olympian.

“I’m so proud of you and I believe in you and we’ll be cheering you on every step of the way.”

“Thanks Mom,” she tells her and squeezes her tightly before letting go.

“Good luck, kid,” David says and hugs Tilly next and Matty just gets on in there. Tessa glances over at Scott, faced with the small hive of their children, entangled in a mess of limbs and support and he smiles at her and takes a deep breath. They made it this far, no matter what happens with Tilly today, that is the most important thing. They’re all here, all healthy and together. Everything else is just extra.

 

***

 

Scott thinks he might have a heart attack when he watches Tilly skate to center ice to get into her position for the short program in her individual event. During the team event, she had stumbled on a jump combination early on in her program and finished well but it threw her off her groove. She did nearly perfect in her long but she had still been rattled these last couple of days with the pressure mounting. Team Canada had missed Gold in the team event to the Russians by a hair and the loss had also not been very motivating. The day before, she had sat down with her mental prep coach for an hour and then another one with Tess and him to get her head in the right place and now he keeps a close eye on her legs as she gets in her starting position, arms raised over her head to form an “X” and to his relief, they’re not shaking. He watches her take a deep breath and her face fall into place, an image of strength and determination. She’s ready. It’s in her hands now. All he can do is stand on the side and observe every step closely, with baited breath.

 

Chiddy is pacing up and down a couple of metres ahead but stops the second the first beat of her song kicks in and Tilly flutters into motion. She skates wide, the focus in the beginning on her footwork and a mix of pop and lock and flowing lyrical hip hop moves before the music turns into a women’s choir for the chorus and she starts on her spins, steady in one place before breaking out to skate in a circle and work her camel spins in the round as if she was a ferris wheel with all the cabins turning themselves. The next change in the music is a rhythmic, beat-based-part that lends itself perfectly for her jumps–Chiddy and her have choreographed them intricately into step combinations and because they threw out the quads, she does a triple axel, triple lutz and a-triple toeloop with only the smallest of transition and lands them all confidently to the roars of the crowd.

 

Still, Scott scarcely breathes as his little girl is flying in the air and this is where her inherited muscles come in to nothing but her advantage because the sheer height of her jumps is dazzling and the control she exudes, even if it’s barely visible to the naked eye, leaves the whole stadium in awe. Most of all her father. He can hear Chiddy yell out a “yes” and grins but doesn’t take his eyes off of Tilly until she finishes her short with a triumphant pose, chest heaving and eyes glimmering dangerously, a mirror image of her mother at the end of Carmen all those years ago and he could cry on the spot. She holds her pose for all of two seconds and then breaks into the biggest grin and does her bows to half the audience standing and yelling with a sea of Maple leaf flags waving.

 

By the time she makes it back to the boards, Scott is crying. He let’s Chiddy hug her first but then makes his way from the side where he watched (courtesy of his coach accreditation) to intercept her on the way to the kiss and cry.

“Daddy!” She exclaims when she sees him but then he has already scooped her up, lifting her high to twirl her around twice.

“That was so wonderful, kiddo,” he tells her while they’re still spinning. “Good job, such a good job!”

She is giggling like she did as a little girl when he puts her back on her feet and then points to the stands above the Kiss and Cry where the rest of their family has gathered, David and Matty shouting encouragements and Tessa crying freely. Pride is not the word that applies here. This is so much bigger.

 

***

 

Tilly picks up speed for her last spins of her individual short, her focus on her position center ice and she hits the spot, hits the spin at exactly the right bend of her body, tries hard to hear the music over the applause and the wind in her ears and counts her revolutions in her head, counts when to sink to her knees, when to rise back up and lift her leg. And then she spins until her cue to release comes on and she stops spinning, coming to a halt abruptly, a move she has trained to perfection in the last year, to hurl to a stop, facing the judges and throwing her hand up in the air at the last beat of Wuthering Heights, an added orchestral thud not in the original song but added to have an oomph-ending. And that it is.

 

For a moment, she hears nothing but the blood rushing past her ears and her own heartbeat but then she hears then screaming from the stands. She’s done it. It’s gonna be Gold. She can feel it in her bones.

 

***

 

“I can’t believe it, I’m so proud,” Tessa says, clasped against Scott’s side on the VIP bleachers left of the medal ceremony stage, watching as the gold medal is placed around Tilly’s neck and tries not to cry too much. It’s no use. This is the height of what any Olympic win has ever made Tessa feel, including her own. The pride and elation about a performance she had virtually no part in is still all-consuming. Her child did that, her daughter. She’s won. After so many years of hard work and sacrifice, the hours Tilly had put in, the blood, sweat and tears. Every drive to practice rinks for hours across the greater Montreal area, the moving away from home as a teenager, every ghastly early morning, it had all come down to this very moment.

 

Tilly straightens her spine after shaking a couple more hands and then looks for them, meeting Tessa’s eyes and waving like she had back in the days when she was riding on a carousel, her face lighting up every time her parents got into view. She has come so far. Tilly is not a little girl anymore, she’s an Olympic champion now (and World Record holder, while they’re at it). Who would’ve thought? (Actually, Scott did. Ten years ago when Tilly won her first local competition, he had looped his arm around her shoulder and had said “This one will win the Olympics one day.” And here they are.)

 

After the ceremony, Tilly is hurled away into the next wave of media interviews and Scott has to get back to his teams whose competition is still coming up and so they don’t get together as a family until way into the night. The next morning, Tessa does a stint for CBC doing a little pre-coverage of the ice dance event and meets her daughter after, who now sits beside her for the ice dancing free programs. David and Matt have opted to catch a hockey game (Matty is being eyed for the draft for the national Canadian team, so it’s very smart to be seen there and seize some opportunities to mingle). With Tilly beside her, Tessa remembers all the competitions they had watched like this together, from having her perched up on her lap as a three-year old, to back at the Worlds in Germany when she was still a baby, all the way until now. Not once had Tilly been bad company. Not even in her riot teenage days, watching skating with her had always been a joy. As cockily confident as she can be (a personality trait inherited clearly from her father), the way she comments on skating had always been profound and thoughtful. Meanwhile her comments on costumes and music choices had always been cutting and hilarious and were the reason why they often got angry looks for laughing too loud.

 

At today’s competition there is plenty to laugh about regarding music choices and costumes but also a reason to be angry, because by the end of it, Tim and Ellie get the SIlver even though they would have deserved the Gold. But at least Scott is with them, Tessa thinks, he’s been there before, he’ll know how to build them back up. And they’re still young, they have another game in them, maybe even two. They’ll get there.

“You wanna go see Dad?” Tilly asks her after the event is concluded.

“He’ll be busy raising morale now,” Tessa tells her. “We’ll meet him at Canada house.”

“No can do,” Tilly says, her face scrunched. “I gotta rehearse my ex.”

“Oh, I remember,” Tessa says and grins, knowing what that exhibition program is while Scott doesn’t. “Your father is gonna be so happy.”

“I’m counting on it,” Tilly quips, her eyes full of mischief.

 

***

 

The Gala is a nice affair and Scott is a little less restless beside his wife after his couples have completed their exhibition skates. Now, he’s just slightly peeved about Tilly’s program coming up because Tessa won’t tell him what it is. All he knows (because Tim told him) is that apparently it’s not the usual ex of her season–which begs the question when she took the time in her Olympic year to develop and train a second exhibition program without him knowing.

“She’s skating to Moulin Rouge, isn’t she?” He asks Tessa when Tilly takes her position on center ice.

“Don’t be silly,” his wife laughs and takes his hand. “Just watch.”

 

He knows the song by the first note and can’t help the bellowing laugh upon the recognition.

“Oh no, she didn’t,” he says when the first chords of  “You Make My Dreams” by Hall and Oates fill the space and then he looks at his daughter who finds his eyes, throws her arm out to point at him and shouts loud enough so he can hear: “DAD!”

He rolls his eyes adoringly and watches how she skates an upbeat, gorgeous, lively and endlessly charming solo to the song which eventually fades artfully into “Out Of Touch”.

Tessa is having the time of her life beside him, jumping up eventually and pulling him up with her and she laughs and laughs and he hates them both a little bit but loves them oh so much.

 

When Tilly is finished, she saves her last bow for their side and waves to them again, a sly grin on her face and Scott can’t help but wave back. She did beautifully.

“See, I told you a Hall and Oates program would be amazing,” Tessa says to him, leaning into his side.

“Yeah,” he says. “But that was never our program to skate. I always said no because it had to be hers.”

“Of course you did,” Tessa laughs. “Because you always knew we’d have a kid to skate it one day.”

“Yes,” he affirms and follows it with a soft kiss onto the top of her head. “I always knew.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for leaving your thoughts and wishes for the next installments, they so give me life!!


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